Honorine | Page 4

convince these fair flowers of their sex that some virtues might
remain in a woman after she had fallen.
"How long are we going to play at hide-and-seek in this way?" said
Leon de Lora.
"Cara vita, go and put your children to bed, and send me by Gina the
little black pocket-book that lies on my Boule cabinet," said the Consul
to his wife.
She rose without a reply, which shows that she loved her husband very
truly, for she already knew French enough to understand that her
husband was getting rid of her.
"I will tell you a story in which I played a part, and after that we can
discuss it, for it seems to me childish to practise with the scalpel on an
imaginary body. Begin by dissecting a corpse."
Every one prepared to listen, with all the greater readiness because they
had all talked enough, and this is the moment to be chosen for telling a
story. This, then, is the Consul-General's tale:--
"When I was two-and-twenty, and had taken my degree in law, my old
uncle, the Abbe Loraux, then seventy-two years old, felt it necessary to
provide me with a protector, and to start me in some career. This
excellent man, if not indeed a saint, regarded each year of his life as a
fresh gift from God. I need not tell you that the father confessor of a
Royal Highness had no difficulty in finding a place for a young man
brought up by himself, his sister's only child. So one day, towards the
end of the year 1824, this venerable old man, who for five years had
been Cure of the White Friars at Paris, came up to the room I had in his
house, and said:
"'Get yourself dressed, my dear boy; I am going to introduce you to

some one who is willing to engage you as secretary. If I am not
mistaken, he may fill my place in the event of God's taking me to
Himself. I shall have finished mass at nine o'clock; you have
three-quarters of an hour before you. Be ready.'
"'What, uncle! must I say good-bye to this room, where for four years I
have been so happy?'
"'I have no fortune to leave you,' said he.
"'Have you not the reputation of your name to leave me, the memory of
your good works----?'
"'We need say nothing of that inheritance,' he replied, smiling. 'You do
not yet know enough of the world to be aware that a legacy of that kind
is hardly likely to be paid, whereas by taking you this morning to M. le
Comte'--Allow me," said the Consul, interrupting himself, "to speak of
my protector by his Christian name only, and to call him Comte
Octave.--'By taking you this morning to M. le Comte Octave, I hope to
secure you his patronage, which, if you are so fortunate as to please that
virtuous statesman--as I make no doubt you can--will be worth, at least,
as much as the fortune I might have accumulated for you, if my
brother-in-law's ruin and my sister's death had not fallen on me like a
thunder-bolt from a clear sky.'
"'Are you the Count's director?'
"'If I were, could I place you with him? What priest could be capable of
taking advantage of the secrets which he learns at the tribunal of
repentance? No; you owe this position to his Highness, the Keeper of
the Seals. My dear Maurice, you will be as much at home there as in
your father's house. The Count will give you a salary of two thousand
four hundred francs, rooms in his house, and an allowance of twelve
hundred francs in lieu of feeding you. He will not admit you to his table,
nor give you a separate table, for fear of leaving you to the care of
servants. I did not accept the offer when it was made to me till I was
perfectly certain that Comte Octave's secretary was never to be a mere
upper servant. You will have an immense amount of work, for the

Count is a great worker; but when you leave him, you will be qualified
to fill the highest posts. I need not warn you to be discreet; that is the
first virtue of any man who hopes to hold public appointments.'
"You may conceive of my curiosity. Comte Octave, at that time, held
one of the highest legal appointments; he was in the confidence of
Madame the Dauphiness, who had just got him made a State Minister;
he led such a life as the Comte de Serizy, whom you all know, I think;
but even more quietly, for his house was in the Marais, Rue Payenne,
and he hardly ever entertained. His private